


HKxIceland: World Gakuen AU, Skirts, sex

by JetnessAffliction



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bets and Wagers, M/M, cross dressing, world gakuen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetnessAffliction/pseuds/JetnessAffliction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the label.</p><p>circa 2010 apologies for character inconsistencies, I'm sure both charas have changed/developed since then. BUT WHATEVER, porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HKxIceland: World Gakuen AU, Skirts, sex

Hong Kong quietly stalked down the Northwest hall towards Iceland and Norway’s dorm, snacks in the backpack tossed over his shoulder and economics textbook under an arm. Lately he’d been spending Tuesday afternoons tutoring Iceland —free of charge— a testament to how bad the other really was with his money. Despite China’s nagging about Western exploitation (as if Eastern was any different) Hong Kong didn’t mind the free labor. It was a legitimate reason to get away from overcrowded Asian dorms and spend time with a quiet European who was actually grateful.

 

Besides, Iceland was a quick study. They had negotiated a working arrangement the first day. If Iceland’s GPD rose, Hong Kong would reward him. But if it fell…

 

It was a joke at first. A bet sort of. Maybe. Neither of them would hold the other to their word if they backed out. Probably. They would see how far they would go. And in the meantime. He supposed the sex was also economics, if you cared to reason it out (he didn’t).

 

The door was still open a crack. Hong Kong nudged it further with his foot and was suddenly stunned by the sight of Iceland in front of the mirror; half out of uniform.

 

A girl’s uniform.

Ribbon tie half secured and right corner of pleated skirt wrinkled upward midthigh against the palest, barest, slender legs set apart in brown pennyloafersand—

Hong Kong’s hand reflexively went to the cellphone in his back pocket.

 

When Iceland turned around at the sound of the digital shutter, his face was almost as red as the plaid.

 

For that split second, Iceland looked between indignant and angry, then –a realization— his eyebrows twitched and the red on his face became more _focused_.

 

Suddenly there was a tangle of teenage limbs. They tumbled and a wayward foot slammed the door shut. Desperate arms started recklessly pulling, pushing, reaching, and dodging around their twisting bodies.  Hong Kong scrambled for leverage, couldn’t get enough air, but was still laughing in that low, quiet tease and Iceland couldn’t seem to just grab hold of that _stupid_ cellphone.

 

They ended up on the floor with books facedown and snacks scattered around them, Iceland’s back to the wall and hand jammed into the Asian boy’s back pocket, fingers brushing plastic manufactured for less than a dollar a day.  But the taller boy was holding his arm in place, gripping onto his wrist with no indication of letting go any time soon.

 

They were so close, Hong Kong could feel the heat radiating off of Iceland’s body under that alluring red jumper, steady and magnetic. Iceland was adorable like this, fuming like a little volcano. It was such a kick riling up the quiet European, waiting for him to explode.

 

But seconds passed and Iceland calmed down. He relaxed as much as he could between the wall and his classmate, his mind puttering on for a contingency. Iceland looked into the other boy’s steady, amber eyes and noticed Hong Kong didn’t really mind his hand wedged between pocket and ass. The same way Iceland didn’t really mind the stray hand creeping up his right leg.

 

“You drop at last index?” Hong Kong asked, eyes traveling down Iceland’s body, more than just his smile quickly growing. “Aiya, Iceland. I would be disappointed but… ”he actually felt like celebrating. Right now. Hong Kong leaned in, lips against the other boy’s ear “Why can you not concentrate?”  

 

Iceland tugged sharply, hoping to retrieve the phone. When Hong Kong only chuckled and didn’t let up, Iceland drew on his best English and solemnly promised: “Your dick. _Gæslan_ will be cutting off if you don’t release.”

 

Hong Kong froze. Considered the odds. Let go of Iceland’s wrist. He sat back on his knees, one leg still between the other’s, and rose his hands in surrender. “Good show,” he smirked.

 

Iceland just pulled the cellphone out and started the frustrating business of erasing photos on a phone that operated in Traditional Chinese. He decided to leave the less incriminating ones of him (them) alone, only slightly surprised they even existed. “You’re early today,” he pointed out when finished, and tossed the phone across the room. By the time it stopped clattering against the hardwood floor, both boys had their hands back where they had been. Except for Iceland’s left, which pulled Hong Kong in for a kiss.

 

They started out slow as usual, as if it was always the first time, and true to habits: Hong Kong seeking permission first, going for everything he can get until he couldn’t get enough, and Iceland kissing back with increasing pressure, looking for any inroad to make an impression.

 

Hong Kong’s tongue slid across Iceland’s lower lip and the other boy opened up for him, warm and grateful and sweet and so much better than that other European bastard, any of them really. This was so new, being with someone _he_ wanted, someone who only asked simple things of him in return. He could definitely get used to this.

 

Hong Kong withdrew for a second, yanked off his uniform blazer in a flurry of graceless jerks and loosened his tie just enough to pull it over his head. He looked down at Iceland, at the other boy’s flushed face and deep eyes and small, slightly crooked smile that promised nothing productive would get done that afternoon. It was magic the way Iceland turned the tables. He could feel it building up in him. If he wasn’t careful, he would be the one to explode instead. Hong kong’s hands floated over Iceland’s thighs, light and encouraging, but never possessive, never like—

 

“What terms for next time?” Iceland asked nonchalantly, cutting into the Asian boy’s thoughts by tapping and rubbing his knee on the outside of Hong Kong’s thigh as if the other boy needed a reminder it was there. “If I rise a 2.5%?”

 

Iceland seemed to always bet against his own ability, as if he preferred his tutor’s ‘penalties’ more than successful development. It didn’t make much sense to Hong Kong to do so on purpose, but for certain —the Asian teen’s fingers skimmed the hem of Iceland’s skirt and slowly dragged it upward, exposing more of those pale legs and just a glimpse of light blue cotton—  Iceland didn’t mind losing this time. He should have also bet lace panties. He inhaled sharply at the missed opportunity. _Aiya_.

 

But now, Iceland had to be setting himself up for failure, laying out 2.5% as if any self-governing entity could easily pull it off, much less one so deep in the red as he was. “You will not go higher than 1.7%, not this decade.” Hong Kong countered and started sucking on the other boy’s pulse point until it drummed faster and faster against his mouth. “But if you do.. what do you want?” He tried not to make it sound like he’d do anything Iceland asked, rise in index or not.

 

Iceland feigned concentration for moment, his quiet gasps getting louder the longer Hong Kong kept up against his neck. “When your roommate leaves to visit his brother… When he does, I spend the night.” Iceland dragged his shin against the other boy’s obvious erection and Hong Kong shivered against him, lips stuttering over wet skin.

 

“D-Deal.”

 

Yong Soo was going to have to sort his business out, because the Korean was going to find himself on a one-way trip north, _soon_.

 

“ _And_ I fuck you.” Iceland had a fistful of Hong Kong’s shirt in his hand and a glint of volcanic fire in his eyes when he pulled the other back to repeat that straight on with the most devious, promising smirk. “I fuck you next time. Still deal?”

 

There were a few thoughts that ricocheted around in Hong Kong’s head at that counter: It _has_ been a while; At least he actually asked; He really fucking wants to, doesn’t he;  He will never rise 1.7% if you sabotage him; It would probably be the best fuck of your life so far.

 

Hong Kong was rock hard by the last thought.

 

“2.5% then.” the Asian replied, all business.

 

“You said 1.7” Iceland pouted.

 

“2 even”

 

“1.8 and 3% decrease unemployment.” Iceland brushed his leg upwards again, just _there_ as he pulled it out and reshuffled his heel beside of Hong Kong’s.

 

Hong Kong clicked his tongue to keep from moaning. “Wh- where are you getting such indicators? You have no idea how hard—”

 

“1.8 and 3,” Iceland twisted away, as if moving out from under Hong Kong, suddenly uninterested.

 

Hong Kong grabbed Iceland’s shoulders and pinned him flat, “ _Diu_! Fine.” He dove in, leaving a trail of hot kisses down Iceland’s throat as he unfastened buttons and peeled away fabric. “Deal. _Deal_. But if you don’t improve enough, I paint you.”

 

“Paint?” Iceland gave him a confused look, hand halfway to Hong Kong’s belt.

 

“Like this,” Hong Kong nudged him back flat and traced lazy characters with his finger across the pale skin of the other boy’s chest; slow meaningless strokes, accents teasing around tiny pink nipples. He smiled, watching the flush spread across Iceland’s cheeks when the boy understood. “Whatever I write stays there. Until you improve.” Hong Kong grinned at the way Iceland’s eyes slid shut and skin shivered under his fingers as they skimmed across sensitive areas of his pale belly.

 

Iceland could only nod his approval, arching up as Hong Kong drew their hips together, a stuttered moan and broken sigh filled the room. Iceland was grinding against him now in short desperate movements, they were both so hard, separated by thin layers of cloth that felt like they were going to burn away.

 

“L-Let me up,”  Iceland gasped out finally, hands first kneading at Hong Kong’s chest then pushing at the other boy’s shoulders. Hong Kong let out a quiet groan but backed off, a rush of cool air following him. Iceland scrambled backwards and up against the wall, biting his lower lip and unsteady on his feet as he attempted to stand up.

 

Hong Kong immediately closed the distance again, holding Iceland’s hips in place until the other settled himself and held his skirt up. “You should have worn cuter underwear,” He teased, half serious, lips brushing heated skin and the waistband of Iceland’s shorts.

 

“Shut up and..” Iceland let go of the skirt and threaded his fingers in Hong Kong’s hair, gripping and pushing the other boy’s head lower, hips bucking forward on their own.

 

In his past life, Hong Kong would have hated the gesture, but he reveled in it now. He yanked Iceland’s shorts down and took him into his mouth in one quick motion. Iceland’s low, satisfied moan filled his ears and goaded him on. Hong Kong dug his nails into the sweaty skin of the other boy’s ass, two fingers searching for entrance. He could feel the other boy inside his mouth as he swallowed and sucked with abandon. Iceland was trembling beneath his tongue, against his forehead, around his fingers, so tight and trembling wet and wanting. In an instant, he understood how powerful it made him feel, that Iceland was moaning and pleading with every fiber of his body, wanting this, wanting _him_. He was going to explode. He needed to-

 

There was another flurry of motion, change of position, and Hong Kong was on his feet too, twisting the other boy around to face the wall, cock already in hand. If there was any protest, it was lost in a shared groan of pleasure as Hong Kong drove in and Iceland came hard from being penetrated, his cum dripping between Hong Kong’s fingers as he continued to wring scattered sighs from the shaking boy. Hong Kong came right after, feeling red-hot and seeing nothing but white.

 

They stayed still for a moment, bodies flush against each other and pulsing, glowing as they both gasped in air through tiny, secret smiles.

 

* * *

 

They cleaned up quickly and Iceland changed back into his actual uniform. He was using the sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead when he caught Hong Kong on all fours, still searching for his phone. “Should I call it?” He asked languidly, studying the other boy’s ass in the air as he searched under the dresser.

 

“Can you? Though I think the ringer is broken because of you,” Hong Kong grumbled and continued to fish around under the furniture, completely unaware of how silly he looked, or Iceland’s smirk behind him, or Iceland’s phone already out and zooming in.

 

“Sure.”

 

*click*

 

 [end]

**Author's Note:**

> it's always better when you don't see it coming


End file.
